


but you're a masterpiece

by Thorinoakentwig



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Caretaking, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Intimacy, Light BDSM, M/M, Pet Names, Purring Keith (Voltron), Riding, Safeword Use, Switching, Top Keith (Voltron), Top Shiro (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:02:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26617885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorinoakentwig/pseuds/Thorinoakentwig
Summary: “Red,” Shiro says, barely more than a whisper but it’s enough as the body on top of him instantly slips away, the pressure on his wrists a second later.A hand cups his face gently and another runs through his hair. “Shiro? What’s wrong?”No not a hand—Keith’s hand and Shiro opens his eyes to find distressed violet eyes staring at him. Dimly he realizes he’s on the verge of tears.(Or: Shiro used to like being tied up during sex, but the first time he tries it with Keith, they find out his time as a galra prisoner changed that)
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 48
Kudos: 201
Collections: Sheith Prompt Party 2020





	but you're a masterpiece

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the mods who hosted this event! It's been so much fun!
> 
> Notes for the fic: This is set sometime after season 8 but is not at all season 8 compliant. Allura is still alive, the boys are still in love and have been together for some time in the fic.

As much as Shiro could blame it on the clone or the ordeal of dying, becoming something akin to a spirit alone in his own plane, and coming back to life it surprisingly has nothing to do with any of that. 

The truth is Shiro has never thought much of sex. On the list of priorities—his grandparents passing away, dealing with a chronic and increasingly painful illness, trying to prove himself worthy when nearly everyone doubted him—it had ranked rather low. 

Keith stares at him for a moment but his expression shows only a bit of confusion. “So did you and Adam never?” There’s an underlying current of determination as if he’s prepared to fully commit himself to a life spent only trading kisses or holding hands. 

Like everything else it’s easy to talk about this with Keith and Shiro can only be hopelessly grateful that the shift from best friends into more has shown no signs of changing that.

Shiro laughs, “No we did. It just took time.” 

It’s hard to explain even to himself. Shiro had been fine with friends, acquaintances really, even if he was more of a loner than his old garrison reputation would suggest. Anything more had felt like a distraction, a waste of his already precious time. For all their differences, especially at the end, Adam had been unfailingly patient. He didn’t care that Shiro had no time to even think of dating, of anything more than flight sims and thesis papers. He had only tried to help however he could until slowly without notice he’d slipped through Shiro’s defenses in the way so few had.

It had been hard not to like someone like that and for the first time in his life, Shiro discovered more than just a brief spark of attraction to someone. 

Still, they were busy men, both ambitious and wanting to prove themselves even if Shiro was more so, and sex had remained a low priority for both of them. 

In reality, Shiro isn’t that much more experienced than Keith who’d already admitted to a brief fling with a fellow Blade member that had stopped long before the end of the war.

“He wasn’t you.” Keith had said with a shrug, so easily without a hint of self-consciousness while the tips of Shiro’s ears burned a delicate pink. 

Keith’s brow furrows for a moment before smoothing out and Shiro is content to just wait as he puzzles out whatever he wants to say. Shiro loved the Keith from before, but some part of him is heartened to see how his rough edges have smoothed over, how his passion has turned into something steadier and more confident the way he always thought it would. He’s still rash and his temper isn’t gone but he’s no longer striking out with a chip on his shoulder and the urge to prove himself to everyone who looks twice even if he’s right. 

“So what do you like then?” Keith says finally no judgment in his tone or his face but with a hint of something eager in his eyes. It’s small, barely noticeable but it makes Shiro smile. He understands the urge, they know everything about each other so finding these last few hidden pieces has an almost rush tied to it. Something just for them to share.

There are a million things Shiro could say—before hands or mouths had been easier, anything involving being on his back or his thighs had always pulled on his already sore muscles but creativity and perseverance has always been a virtue not a flaw of his—but he says the answer without really thinking about it, driven by a mischievous urge he only seems to get around Keith. 

“I like being tied up,” Shiro says and his grin grows sharper, satisfied at the slight widening of Keith’s eyes, the curiosity he can feel burning off him.

Keith pauses for a moment, the slight tip of his tongue brushing past his lips before vanishing. “Would you like that with me?” 

“I like everything with you,” Shiro says honestly, his smile turning into something more tender.

A flush to match the color of his old paladin armor consumes his face and he can’t help but laugh in delight. 

“We talked about this.” Keith half-heartedly protests when he’s calmer though the tips of his ears and the highs of his cheekbones are pinker than usual.

“But you’re so cute.” Keith rolls his eyes and diligently continues on, the conversation going back to more light-hearted topics as the rest of the team knocks on their door armed and ready with a mountain of snacks for monsters and mana night. Still, Shiro can feel his intense gaze on him the entire time even as he starts bickering with Lance over a particularly bizarre decision his character makes. The anticipation, the interest, makes his skin prickle and he wills himself to wait until Keith approaches first. 

In the meantime, things are still as good as they always were. They go on rides, they spar, they both try their hands at cooking and laugh when it fails horribly and instead get food from their favorite diner. It’s everything good that their friendship ever was but better because at the end of the night Shiro goes to his room and Keith’s already there, soft and vulnerable in a way no one else ever sees, in a way Shiro never thought he’d get to see. 

On the nights Keith falls asleep first, usually clutching at him like he’s a particularly cuddly teddy bear, Shiro always quietly counts his blessings and hopes as hard as he can that he never fucks this up.

It’s a few weeks later when Keith finally brings it up. They’re lying in bed, Keith sprawled out on top of him with a hand idly tracing down his bare back as he tries to gain some semblance of his mind. 

Keith huffs out a quiet little laugh as he rests his head on his arms, just staring at Shiro and the motion draws his eyes to the bruises littering his neck, his chest, a mark as far down his body as they can go.

“What?” Shiro asks, voice coming out more hushed than he intended but it feels right anyway. Absently he brings his other hand up to run through Keith’s now nest of hair.

“Nothing,” Keith says just as quietly, contently but he starts to smile and Shiro pauses in his administration to stare at him scrutinizing. 

He laughs again and Shiro feels himself start to smile in return without even really knowing why. 

“Do you remember what we were talking about the other week?” Keith says suddenly, a few minutes later.

“About taking a road trip to hit up every major national park?” Shiro asks, brows furrowed as he tries to think. It’s hard to function at 100% with a warm nude body on top of him, with Keith on top of him.

Keith shakes his head. “Before that.” Shiro frowns, hands pausing as he tries to go through mission briefs, anything he’s heard Keith mention about his mom or the blades, anything important but he can’t help but draw up a blank.

At last, Keith is merciful and seems to take pity on him. “You mentioned something you liked the other week.” He says conversationally as his hands gently wrap around Shiro’s wrists. The touch turns just a bit firmer and Shiro is reminded not for the first time of how deceptively strong his boyfriend is.“Ringing any bells?”

“You really want to?” He’s not sure what emotion is showing on his face but Keith’s eyes widen for a second before a determined gleam takes over. 

“Yes,” Keith says simply, assured, and Shiro can’t help but unconsciously squirm against the hold he’s in, but there’s no point in testing it Keith’s grip is ironclad.

“You’re not just doing it for me?” 

Keith pauses and stares at him for a moment and Shiro couldn’t look away even if he wanted to as Keith lets go of his wrists to gently cup his face, the touch so painfully kind that he has to close his eyes when his hands reach Shiro’s scar.

“I’m doing this for you but I’m also doing it for me. I like the idea of holding you down and fucking you, taking care of you.” Keith says quietly. “You always take care of me. It’s my turn.”

Shiro blinks, vision strangely blurred before he nods. “I want you to take care of me too.” It’s not something he’d ever admit to anyone else but concern and care from Keith have never felt like a burden, has never once come off as patronizing or pity.

It’s not that easy, there are steps and more talks but it’s a start and excitement burns up Shiro’s spine in anticipation as he waits for his next day off.

It comes too soon and not soon enough all at once and Shiro returns to his quarters to find a naked Keith waiting for him on their bed, a yard of pretty red rope next to him. It takes him a moment to drag his gaze away from Keith to the rope and he can feel himself flushing, burning already.

“Come here,” Keith says with that precious sweet smile just for him but at the same time his voice is so firm and steady and Shiro’s already on the bed before he’s even processed it.

Keith’s smile widens at the moment before he leans down and kisses him. It’s been only a couple hours since they last saw each other, last kissed each other but Shiro can’t help but deepen it, already eager for more. He presses himself against the warm body on top of him, shifting closer so he can edge in between Keith’s thighs and feel his cock pressing against him.

Keith’s hand cups the back of his neck, running through the short hairs there as he takes control of the kiss, gentling it. When he pulls away Shiro is still panting and he can’t help but chase after him, pulling him into a less frazzled kiss. Keith allows it for a second and then draws back.

“Remember, it’s my turn to do what I want,” Keith says playfully and Shiro nods and tries to calm himself. 

The first thing Keith seems to want is Shiro naked and he has no complaints as his uniform is thrown to the floor, every quick touch of his fingers burning like a brand into his skin. 

“Whatever you want.” Shiro agrees less words than one shaky breath. 

Keith’s smile turns warmer and he ducks down to give Shiro a quick kiss before he leans back slightly to survey him. His hands rest on Shiro’s chest, almost absently squeezing and massaging his pecs as he seems to think over his next move.

“I’m going to tie you up now.” Keith decides, and Shiro knows it was going to happen at some point tonight but the idea of it still steals the breath out of him and he can only nod, biting on his lip to hold back a groan.

Keith pulls away from him then as he presses Shiro against the bed. The red rope is already in his hands and Shiro does moan this time as he starts unraveling it.

The weight of the rope against his skin, the burn as he tests it and finds barely any give is so so good. Keith ties the prettiest, best knots with the same dedication he does everything else and Shiro is once again reminded of how much he loves him.

“You practiced?” He says surprised.

Keith grins, quick and sharp as he checks over his handiwork. “I wanted it to be good for you.”

Shiro smiles back, “You’re always good for me.”

He rolls his eyes but looks pleased anyways. “How’s that feel?” For a moment some of his confidence fades away, the first glimpses of hesitancy taking its place. 

Shiro tests it again, slower this time, and more purposeful. “You did a beautiful job, but I’d expect nothing less.” He says sincerely and Keith nearly beams, some of that blush from earlier coming back, as it creeps down his chest.

“Now what?” Shiro asks teasingly.

“Now,” Keith sinks lower, as he ducks down so he’s level with Shiro’s cock, already an agonizing red. 

“I’m going to suck you off until you cry,” he says sweetly, before a clever tongue darts out to kitten lick at his cockhead. 

Shiro starts to laugh but it turns into a moan and he lets himself sink boneless into the feeling of Keith’s mouth around his cock as his hands grip his hips and pull him further in. The motion tugs at the ropes around his wrist, a sweet grounding pressure, and Shiro closes his eyes because if he looks at Keith right now then he will come. 

It’s good, it always is with Keith who’s never been shy about how talented his mouth is. Keith pulls away to lick a wet stripe up his cock and Shiro’s hands flex out subconsciously to bury themselves in his hair before he remembers he can’t.

Keith laughs at the dumbfounded expression on his face, as he licks away some precome from the corner of his mouth before renewing his efforts, sucking even harder, tracing along the thick vein on his cock. The hands around his hips are near as firm a grasp as the ropes around his wrists and Shiro is held immobile, forced to be still as Keith mouths and licks at his cock. 

Shiro moans again as Keith swallows him down deeper, as he fucks into his warm mouth, hands squeezing, scratching at his thighs. Little pinpricks of pain and pleasure that make his entire body light up.

It’s good with Keith, it always is until the moment it’s not. Later he’s not sure what triggers it—if it’s when he closed his eyes or when he fully realized he couldn’t move at all, couldn’t touch Keith even if he wanted too.

All he knows is one minute it’s so so good and the next Shiro realizes that all the warmth has slipped away from him. He’s floating somewhere, away from Keith—away from them but it’s not at all like he remembers from before. It’s not the good kind of floating like warm bubbles but like he’s been cut adrift without anything to hold him down, on a spacewalk into the void without a tether.

Distantly he can hear a voice but it’s not the familiar sound of Keith but something older, something Shiro’s worked to forget.

_If he likes to fight then why don’t we reward him?_

Where once the ropes were comforting, were safe, now they feel abrasive. They’re suddenly metal and so strong no man could possibly break free. Shiro tries anyway because he remembers what’s next.

_Let’s give the prisoner a gift, shall we?_

His arm is there but it’s not because they’re going to take it and Shiro pulls even harder, panic racing through him as he tries to say something, to beg, to plead, just please don’t take his arm again.

Not again.

It hurt so much last time.

Shiro bites down on his lip so hard he draws blood trying to hold back a scream because it’s only worse when he screams. They like it when the prisoners scream.

The action jars something and Shiro tries to focus on what he’s missing before he smells the scent of cinnamon, of smoke, and sun before he remembers.

“Red,” Shiro says, barely more than a whisper but it’s enough as the body on top of him instantly slips away, the pressure on his wrists a second later.

A hand cups his face gently and another runs through his hair. “Shiro? What’s wrong?” 

No not a hand—Keith’s hand and Shiro opens his eyes to find distressed violet eyes staring at him. Dimly he realizes he’s on the verge of tears.

“I-I don’t know.” Shiro croaks out, licking away a stray droplet of blood. His heart feels like it’s beating a mile a minute.“I was here and then I wasn’t.”

Keith is silent for a moment, careful to keep up his gentle touches. “Okay, that’s alright we can figure it out later. What do you need from me?”

“Hold me please.” It should be counterintuitive but Shiro feels so shaky, feels like he’ll crumble at the slightest bit of pressure and Keith is so real. No matter who or what, Keith has always kept him safe.

“Of course,” Keith says and then carefully pulls them down, until his chest is pressed right up against Shiro’s back, their legs entangling as he slides their hands neatly together. With it, there’s no part of them that’s not touching and Shiro lets out a shaky breath as some of the ice chips away from his chest. It’s familiar, it means safe because Keith likes being the big spoon despite their size difference. 

Keith hums quietly against the crook of where his neck and shoulder meet. It’s some quiet tune that Shiro doesn’t recognize but it relaxes him all the same as he focuses on the vibrations against his skin. 

They stay like that for a long time, long enough that the light has started to fade from their room, leaving everything cast in half shadows.

“Sorry,” Shiro says quietly when speaking no longer feels impossible. 

Keith’s humming pauses. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. You used your safeword and did what you were supposed to do.”

He can only shrug in reply and Keith squeezes their hands together where they’re resting against Shiro’s chest, heart beating steadily beneath them. “Is it okay if I go get you something to drink?”

“Yeah,” Shiro says and he sounds a bit better, less rough. “Go ahead, baby.”

A kiss is pressed tenderly against the back of his neck before he slips away, careful and quiet as always. 

Shiro tries to measure his breathing as he waits, slipping into the old routines he’d use when his muscles were so sore that even thinking about moving hurt.

Keith’s back in an instant, dark eyes focused intensely on him as Shiro slowly drinks his water. It helps a little. Keith more than the water but he’s not complaining.

He’s so close that their thighs are touching, the warmth of Keith’s body a grounding presence that feels protective but not overbearing. 

“Is it too soon to talk about it?” 

Shiro shrugs, “Might as well.” They both know that if given the chance Shiro will turn towards pushing away or compartmentalizing his feelings versus talking them out. It’s something he’s working on—something they’ve both worked on in the aftermath of the war but old habitats run true.

Keith doesn’t seem entirely happy with the answer but doesn’t protest more than the slight furrowing of his brow. 

“I had a flashback to my time as a prisoner.” Shiro hates how clinical he sounds, how detached like he’s talking about the weather or someone else.

But it would be easier after all if it had happened to someone else. 

It means someone else would be taking one step backward instead of him.

It’s always him.

“Shiro?” 

Shiro shakes his head. “Sorry, it’s hard to stay present right now.”

“Do you want to stop?” Keith’s tone is patient and so kind that Shiro feels a sharp rush of gratitude that makes him want to ramble to anyone who will listen about how much he loves this man.

Instead, he reaches out his hand and Keith grabs onto it in an instant, holding tightly, his fingers soothingly running over Shiro’s own. 

“It was from when they took my arm.” The hand around his tightens and Shiro squeezes back. A reminder that they’re both okay, that Shiro is free and safe. “They used cuffs to hold me down.”

Shiro can’t help but laugh even though it’s not funny. “I can’t believe I forgot about that.”

Keith stares at him horrified and then there are arms around him and they’re pressed together, Keith’s head fitting perfectly beneath his chin.

“No more cuffs,” Keith says muffled into Shiro’s chest and Shiro huffs out a quiet laugh in agreement.

The mood from earlier is completely gone and Shiro can’t help but be bitter that more of their free time is lost. They’re both so busy that every spare moment is precious and he’s upset that a flashback has ruined what was going to be a good night.

Keith pulls back in his embrace to stare up at him and his heart stutters for a second, anger temporarily forgotten when he can’t look away from those eyes. Keith pulls them to their feet and Shiro can only follow after him as he hands him a pair of Shiro’s comfortable thread worn too soft sweats and silently urges him to get dressed, briskly pulling on his own shorts without nearly as much care. 

“We should get takeout from that Thai place and watch that show Allura got hooked on,” Keith says conversationally as he leads them out to the couch. 

Shiro squints at him. “With the bunny people? Didn’t you say that was stupid?”

Keith rolls his eyes as he fiddles around, grabbing both the remote and the blanket they keep on the back of the couch. “That’s only because Lance was there and I knew it would make him mad.”

“I know what you’re trying to do,” Shiro says smiling.

Keith waits until their order has been placed before answering him and he leans over until he’s resting his head on Shiro’s shoulder, a solid weight that pulls Shiro even further away from the floaty feeling. “Is it working?”

Shiro presses a kiss to his forehead in reply. 

It’s not better, nothing but time, and probably another round of therapy will truly help but it’s a good first step. 

Keith makes an executive decision that they’re both ‘sick’ the next day. They spend it cuddled in bed and just being each other. With anyone else, there’d be some awkward attempt at filling the silence but they’ve always been comfortable past the point of words. Shiro can spend hours with Keith without needing to say anything at all and it’s never time wasted.

The days after follow a similar pattern—Keith is close but never smothering and slowly Shiro starts to settle back into his skin. By the time Keith’s next mission rolls around the flashback seems as if little more than a half-forgotten dream. 

Winning the war solved several problems but left just as many in their wake. A 10,000-year legacy cannot be undone in a day or even a year. Yooxi, a former Galran colony in the andromeda galaxy has formally requested the coalition’s aid. The formerly enslaved native inhabitants and the Galran descendants have been in a political stalemate for the last three months over proposed new laws and policies. 

The fact that they’re reaching out to the coalition to mediate is a hopeful step but Shiro still can’t help but feel wary as Keith and Allura prepare to leave. 

“Someone’s distracted,” Keith notes teasingly. Kosmo sitting at his feet woofs in agreement, tail swishing a mile a minute. 

“Thinking,” Shiro says in reply, a wry smile coming to his face.

Keith reaches out, a hand cupping his cheek and Shiro lets himself lean into it for just a moment, before the hand trails away to rest at the nape of his neck.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” He’s already dressed in his Blade uniform but he looks like he’d stop everything if Shiro so much as said a word. 

Shiro nods, “I’m fine. I’m just tired.” He’s felt restless since the mission brief came in but it’s nothing new. They both sleep better knowing they’ve got each other’s back. Even with Krolia and several other Blades heading to Yooxi, Shiro can’t help but want to join in. 

Even if it’s thirty years from now some part of him is always going to be worried about Keith’s safety when they’re apart. 

Keith frowns, some emotion crossing his face too quick for him to decipher but it’s stopped by Allura’s apologetic interruption.

“They’ve finished preparing the ship,” Allura says, dressed in her own paladin armor.

Keith nods and she glances between them before wandering away, saying goodbye to the others.

“Be safe,” Shiro says quietly and Keith smiles back at him in return.

“Take care of yourself.” He says just as softly and Shiro’s not sure who moves first but then they’re together, chests pressed so close there’s no room between them.

Keith licks at the seam of his mouth, clever tongue slipping inside but Shiro’s the one who tightens their embrace. One hand trailing up to tangle in his hair and the other gripping his hip hard enough to leave bruises. 

They pull away when they’re both dizzy for air and they rest their foreheads against each other, breaths intermingling. 

“I love you.” Keith breathes out, so close their lips almost brush together as he does. 

It’s not even close to the first time he’s said it but Shiro still feels like all the air’s been knocked out of him. 

“I love you too.” This kiss, their goodbye kiss is softer with none of the heat but all of the longing. Shiro squeezes Keith’s hands once before he forces himself to let go, deliberately creating space between them before he can do something stupid like beg Keith to not leave him.

Keith glances back at him one last time and then they’re gone, heading back to the stars like so many times before.

Shiro feels like he’s in a daze for the rest of the day but powers through it. The apartment is too big and quiet without Keith and Kosmo and the bed feels even worse so he ends up falling asleep on the couch even though he knows Keith would scold him for it if he could see it.

It ends up only taking two nights before Shiro falls into a nightmare. It’s close to the same from the other night—he’s back in those cuffs and has to watch as they take his arm. This time though he doesn’t escape. Instead, he’s thrown in a cell and left to rot, begging for Keith, for Matt, for somebody to save him. 

He wakes hours before his alarm, clutching at his chest and heart racing in his ears as he tries his hardest to shove the dream away. Sleep is lost so Shiro goes for a very early run. 

He adds another mile on as the dreams continue—the contents changing just enough to throw him off guard—but it makes little difference. No matter how hard he pushes his body he can’t turn off his mind.

Shiro switches to training simulations when a week in the dreams start involving Keith. He’s still in the cuffs but Keith’s there too, trapped on his own table and this time Shiro begs Haggar until his throat gives out to take his arm instead. Some part of him knows it’s a dream, knows Haggar will never be able to touch Keith or anyone else but terror overtakes logic every single time.

He tries his best to pull himself together in the day time into something less fragile but he knows his exhaustion is obvious. Hunk constantly looks at him in concern whereas Lance drops off coffee and Pidge visits him nearly every day, to talk about a new project or the dumbest thing Matt’s done.

It reaches ahead a week later. After a long day of meetings and calls, Shiro has a flashback in the middle of the day when he’s so tired that he makes a mistake and the training robot manages to pin him. For just a split second it’s not the robot pinning him down but cold metal cuffs and he reacts without thinking, using his prosthetic as hard as he can to push it away from him.

The robot ends up nearly slamming through a wall, broken and sparking. Pidge and Hunk both reassure him they can fix it easily but Shiro can only feel some awful mix of horrified embarrassment. What if someone else had been here? What if he’d been sparring with someone else? Normally Keith’s his only partner but sometimes Lance or some visiting garrison cadets want to practice…

“Hey, are you okay? You’re looking kind of pale.” Hunk says alarmed and even Pidge glances up from the robot to stare at him in concern.

“I-I don’t feel so good,” Shiro says, suddenly dizzy. 

They share a look and then dive smoothly into action. Hunk leads Shiro back to his apartment while Pidge says they’ll cover the rest of his meetings.

She frowns, scrutinizing him for a long moment, and then tells him they’ll deal with tomorrow’s meetings too.

The walk back to his apartment is full of awkward silence but it’s not until they’re at his door that Shiro dares to say anything, afraid if he does it’ll invite questions he won’t— _can’t_ answer.

“I’m sorry about all this,” Shiro says miserably but Hunk just waves it off.

“What are friends for? Hey, I’ll send up some soup later, it should help make you feel better.” They both know it’s not that kind of sickness but Shiro appreciates the thought anyway.

He says a hasty but grateful goodbye and finds himself once again in their empty room. He’s not tired, the prospect of sleeping is actually kind of dreadful right now but he feels so shaky that falling over is a real possibility if he keeps standing. Shiro makes his way to the bed and wraps the comforter around himself until it’s less of a blanket and more of a shield. He presses his face against the soft fabric and tries to tell himself he can still smell Keith’s scent on it. 

It’s not until he recognizes the sound of running water that Shiro realizes he must have fallen asleep. For a second panic surges through him at the thought of someone sneaking into his home but in the next, it’s replaced by relief and warmth as he recognizes the familiar sounds of Keith. 

“Hey sweetheart,” Keith greets softly, eyes still closed as he soaks even further into the tub. There’s bubbles and the smell of something citrusy.

Shiro’s eyes trail over what he can see of his body, checking for bruises or breaks but finding nothing more than the familiar muscular of Keith’s steady chest.

“Everything went okay?” He knows it must have, they’re home several days earlier than expected, and aside from some dark circles under his eyes, Keith looks just the same as the last time he saw him. Still, Shiro has missed this man, missed his presence and his voice and the warmth of him next time. He’d happily listen to Keith recite weather reports as long as it meant they were together.

“Allura managed to get them to hammer out an agreement,” Keith says, pride in his voice, in his team, and Shiro can’t help but laugh quietly.

“I’m sure you had no part in it.” 

Keith’s smile widens and at last violet eyes meet his, momentarily taking his breath away like always. 

“Of course not, I’m just the scary sword guy there to look very cool and intimidating.” He stretches out a hand, beckoning him closer and Shiro follows without a second thought.

“My mistake.” Shiro murmurs. His knees meet the cool tile of the floor as Keith pulls him into a kiss, slowly dripping water onto him.

Keith pulls away when the need for air grows to great but his hand lingers, rubbing affectionately at Shiro’s cheek. “I heard things have been kind of rough here.”

There’s no judgment but Shiro feels shame pulse through him anyway before he manages to push it away. Keith will never judge him. 

“I broke a training robot—threw it straight into a wall,” Shiro admits quietly. “I’ve been having nightmares again.”

His hand leaves his cheek and begins running through his hair, soothing strokes that make Shiro close his eyes. “How long?” There’s no accusation, just concern but it doesn’t feel smothering.

“A few nights after you left.” The hand pauses for a second and then picks back up its path.

“It’s Haggar again?” It’s a question but not at the same time.

“Yeah,” Shiro says even quieter and he can’t help but open his eyes. There’s no pity but Keith looks upset as if angry at himself and he continues on, “It’s not your fault Keith.”

“I brought up tying you up.” Keith points out and Shiro rolls his eyes.

“After I mentioned how much I liked it. You couldn’t have known.” Shiro says firmly, reaching out to clasp Keith’s other hand between his own.

Keith stares at him. “Neither could you.” It’s true as much as Shiro’s occasionally shitty self-esteem would like to deny it. There’s no one alive who could predict the kind of ripples the damage the Galra have done after millennia. Even Matt or Sam could never understand the kind of trauma being the Champion entailed—of having his agency crumbled to pieces again and again and again by Haggar.

“I’m so tired of this.” He says and it feels like he’s a scared little kid again, waiting for the next test, waiting to figure out what was wrong with him but every result leading to only more questions.

“I know,” Keith says softly, regretfully. 

Shiro sighs. “It’s been so long and even when it feels like I’m getting better something like this happens and it’s even worse now because it’s touching you, touching us and I hate that so much.” 

Sometimes on their worst nights, when his arm aches badly or Keith wakes up from a nightmare about the other Shiro and can’t stop crying, clutching at him, he curses Haggar with the depths of his soul. He pictures the first time he met her, one of the only times when he wasn’t chained up or drugged out of his mind and thinks _you should have ripped out her heart when you had the chance_. The other druids would have killed him in an instant but some nights he thinks it would have been worth it to spare Keith even a drop of all this pain.

There’s the sound of water splashing and Shiro looks up just in time to catch a glimpse of Keith’s bare and dripping body before he's pulled into a kiss.

Shiro responds on instinct at first, shivering at the press of warmth against him but then he reacts, curling a hand possessively around the nape of Keith’s neck. 

There’s a soft wet sound between their mouths as they pull away and he can see a pretty flush on Keith’s face that’s from more than just the heat.

“Don’t worry about us,” Keith says, voice raspy. “You and me? We’re always going to be unbreakable.” 

Shiro smiles dopily at him, “Yeah?” 

“ I won’t let us be anything else,” Keith says, with that fiercely adorably determined look in his eye, and Shiro laughs delighted.

Keith’s hands tug at his, silently urging him to the tub and Shiro sheds his clothes almost in a haze, the need to be close to Keith outweighing anything else.

The water has started to chill by now, lukewarm instead of the boiling Keith so highly favors, but the hands that roam his body burn more than enough to make up for it.

On a different night, it would be easy for things to turn heated. One kiss leading into another leading into more but even though they can’t keep their hands off each other it remains more comforting than sensual. The most they do is kiss languidly as they take turns washing each other’s bodies. 

He always loves Keith’s hands on him, anywhere on him, but his favorite moment is at the very end when Shiro’s allowed to braid Keith's soft and shiny hair.

Keith makes a sound that reminds him of a purr and tugs them to bed, piling blankets on them until they’re suitably covered and sheltered from the rest of the world.

“I love you,” Shiro says, heartful and nearly bursting at the knowledge of how wonderful his boyfriend—his Keith is.

In the dark Keith reaches out until he finds Shiro’s hand and he pulls it to him to press a kiss to it. “I love you too. We’re going to figure this out, Shiro.”

Shiro hums drowsily in response and he hears Keith huff out a laugh. Keith sets his hand back down but doesn’t let go, resting comfortably on his chest and Shiro falls asleep to the steady beat of Keith’s pulse beneath his fingers.

He wakes up to the smell of coffee and the sound of Keith cursing quietly but vehemently. Shiro presses a smile into his pillow before making his way to the kitchen.

“Having fun, baby?” Kosmo lets out a happy bark when he sees him and Keith looks away from his attempt incinerating the frying pan with his brain.

“This was supposed to be a surprise,” Keith complains without actually looking upset. 

Shiro grins, “I can always come back?” 

Keith laughs, running a hand through his messy hair, still in the remains of Shiro’s sloppy braid. It makes him beam to see it. Keith’s different in the mornings they share together—softer somehow. 

They split the two decent eggs between them and Shiro practically inhales his coffee as he slowly shifts into a functioning person.

“So I’ve been thinking about last night,” Keith says bluntly. 

His hands still around his cup and at last set it down. “Yeah?”

“You said you were tired of this.” Keith continues on in that same measured tone, the way he does when he’s trying to sound impartial, practical. “Do you think if we could find some way of reclaiming control it would help you feel better?”

Shiro’s brow furrows. “Like what?”

Keith shrugs, looking almost shy. “Well that’s up to you—to us I guess. I just thought if we figured out what you liked about being tied down then maybe we could do it in a different way. A way where you get what you want without any flashbacks.”

Shiro stares at him startled, dimly aware that his mouth is unattractively hanging open. 

“It’s just an idea though,” Keith says seemingly taking his silence as discomfort and hurrying on to reassure him. “I just want you to feel comfortable again and I thought it could help.”

He blinks, realizing there’s the sting of tears and holds out a hand. Keith practically throws himself into his lap, thighs a comforting weight around his waist.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” He says into Keith’s hair. 

Keith lets out something that might be his name, might be a whine.

Despite Keith’s reluctance, he pulls away far enough to see his face, the nice blush covering it. Shiro presses a soft kiss to his forehead, next to his cheeks, then his nose. He only makes it to his lips when Keith starts to squirm.

“My sweet baby,” Shiro says fondly and Keith buries himself back against Shiro’s neck, the barest hint of a smile tingling against his skin.

“We talked about this,” Keith says into his neck and Shiro lets out a quiet laugh, hopeful and lighthearted for the first time in weeks.

It’s not that easy. Shiro never thought much about why he liked being tied up only that had felt good in a way like nothing else had before. It had been a safe way to get out of his head. To stop a thousand thoughts from racing on and on and instead just be.

They try different things, chipping away at the puzzle one step at a time. One day Shiro comes home to a practically giddy Keith. 

The evening is spent with Shiro kneeling by his side, Keith pampering him and spoiling him. He even feeds him by hand and at first, it’s kind of embarrassing but by the end of the night Shiro’s relaxed enough to enjoy the comfort. 

Keith shoves him into a bubble bath after dinner and washes his hair. The strong fingers against his scalp make Shiro groan and towards the end of the bath, Shiro is more of a happy limp noodle than a man.

Then he brings him to bed and that’s different too. Shiro’s not allowed to move, not allowed to touch until Keith says so. Not even when Keith starts fingering himself, staring at him with heated eyes as he pants at the stretch.

His hands tear at the sheets but Keith only laughs sweetly before swinging his thighs over his hips and sinking down onto Shiro’s cock in one smooth motion. They both moan at the movement and the tear in the sheets grows even bigger.

“Remember no touching,” Keith says even as his hands drag over Shiro’s pecs, scratching over his nipples again and again until they pebble against the cool air.

Keith’s touch is electric—he bites and nips at his neck and chest, even as his hands dig hard into Shiro’s thighs no doubt leaving bruises that he’ll admire in the morning. Every part of his body burns for just a second where Keith touches him and then abruptly moves away, relentlessly continuing his assault. His body stings and throne and Shiro wants so much.

Shiro wants to bite back, wants to suck at Keith’s chest until his nipples are red and hot. He wants to flip them over and fuck into Keith so hard and fast he cries. He wants to do everything but he can only follow along with the rhythm of Keith bouncing along in his lap. 

Keith’s thighs start to tremble and he snakes a hand down towards his cock only to have it knocked away as he comes to an agonizing stop.

“No touching.” Keith snarls even as he shudders and shakes. He drops his weight and ends up bracketing Shiro’s face when the burn in his thighs gets to be too much but starts moving again, slower but just as intense, on the edge of too much and not enough.

His hands move from leaving angry little marks into the muscle of Shiro’s thighs to wrapping tightly around his wrists and Shiro lets out a loud groan.

“Keith.” He begs and Keith stares at him through hazy half slitted eyes, rolling his hips again and again to meet the next wave of heat.

“Not yet,” Keith says huskily even as he trails off into a moan.

“Please.” Shiro’s hands flex in the air, desperately wanting to reach out but knowing he’s not allowed. “Please baby.”

Keith bites at his lip so hard it looks like he’ll draw blood but at last, he gives a short shaky nod and Shiro moves lightning quick as he takes control, his thrusts becoming shorter and more pointed, stroking over that sweet spot on every pass.

His hands dig into the meat of Keith’s ass, pushing and pulling at it. Keith struggles between leaning into it and into the thrust of his cock. Never getting enough friction from either motion.

“Shiro.” Keith gasps out, sounding punch struck and he touches his cock, running over the head again and again until his fingers are soaking wet.

He twists his wrist just right and Keith comes, biting hard at Shiro’s neck. Shiro follows over the edge only moments later, surprised at the intensity of his own orgasm, black spots dancing at the corners of his vision.

They lay pressed against each other in a sticky mess. For a long time, there’s only the sound of their quiet panting as they try to recover.

Eventually, Keith’s hands trace gently over his back even as a clever little tongue takes kitten licks at his neck, licking away the cooling sweat.

“Thoughts?” Keith murmurs quietly, what sounds like the start of a purr building up in his chest.

“Wow,” Shiro says because it’s all he has the brainpower to say and Keith laughs at him.

Keith pulls back to stare at him and smiles, “It didn’t work, did it?”

Shiro stares at him, barely resisting the urge to gesture at the mess between them. Something must show in his expression because Keith laughs again, as he rests his head against Shiro’s sweaty chest.

“I didn’t say it wasn’t good. I said it didn’t work.” Keith says, some of his mirth fading away. He stares solemnly at Shiro, hands stilling on his chest right over his heart. “When I tied you up before it went bad there was something different about you. Something I hadn’t seen before.”

“Different?” Shiro reaches out and pushes some of Keith’s hair away from his face and Keith leans into the touch.

He shrugs, Shiro’s hand still pressed against his face. “ I don’t know how to explain it. You were just _different_.”

Shiro smiles at him, “Either way, I think it was a great night. Thank you, baby.” Keith says nothing but turns his face and presses a butterfly-light kiss into his palm.

It was a great night, one of their best in a while. He thinks Keith probably got a bit more out of it than he did, if only because he knows Keith would pamper him all the time if he let him. 

“I like taking care of you.” Keith had said once early on in their relationship and it’s been true since even before that when they were just best friends. 

Keith always takes care of him. And if Shiro can strive to do even half as much then maybe he’d be worthy of him.

Still, they continue onwards, putting that aside for a different time, and trying new things.

“What if I boss you around?” Keith says conversationally one evening as they talk Kosmo for a walk.

Shiro quirks an eyebrow at him, immediately noticing the mischievous glint in his eyes. “How would you do that?” It’s hard to think of Keith as ‘bossy’, he’s always so self-sacrificing that even just the word makes Shiro scrunch his nose in displeasure.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Keith start to grin.“You could call me sir, I could haul you over my knee and spank you until you’re all red and pretty, tell you how much you’ve been a bad boy.” 

“Keith,” Shiro says in a strangled tone and the grin widens, that slightly feral edge to it that drives him crazy.

“Or I could call you a good boy, my good boy. I’m not picky.” Keith adds with a playful smile. 

Shiro lets out a breath, suddenly dizzy.

“What do you think, sweetheart?” Keith’s hand brushes against his for a moment before sliding neatly into his. 

“I don’t mind the spanking or the good boy or bad boy thing,” Shiro says when he feels like he can talk without going up an octave.

Keith raises an eyebrow. “But?” 

“Ever since you said the word ‘sir’ I’ve just been thinking of Iverson,” Shiro admits and Keith lets out a startled laugh clearly not expecting that at all.

“Shiro!” He says flabbergasted and Shiro can’t help it. He starts giggling.

“Oh my god. I can’t believe I was trying to be sexy and you brought up Iverson.” Keith says, looking disturbed. “Ew.” 

Shiro starts giggling even harder, his frame shaking so much that he has to lean against Keith for support. Every time he thinks he has a handle on it he pictures Iverson as Keith and bursts into another fit of giggles.

“You’re a mess,” Keith says fondly, barely holding back his own laughter. It’s an admirable attempt really but it’s enough that Shiro can hear it in his voice and he wheezes.

“I love you.” Says Keith bright-eyed and smiling and Shiro can’t help but pull him into a kiss, little giggles pressed against his lips.

In the end Keith, brilliant and determined, Keith figures it out.

When they’re together they tend to spare every other day or so. It’s a mix of habit and fun that also allows them to keep their skills sharp. At first, after the clone, they’d both been worried that it would be too similar, too much of a bad memory for either of them to enjoy anymore. 

Luckily it’s not. They had fought that first time, a few weeks after they’d come back to earth and fallen into their familiar pattern. It hadn’t been horrifying but playful even when one of them pinned the other. A dance just their own and Shiro knew then that things were going to be alright.

Sometimes if it’s busy they’ll draw a crowd—it seems like everyone around is interested in seeing two paladins go against each other.

They try to go at odd hours—early mornings or late nights—because neither of them is shy but this is something that belongs just to them.

It’s always interesting to see who wins. Shiro by a mix of nature and necessity is stronger but Keith is quicker, more precise on his feet.

Today it’s a pretty even match. Shiro won the first round but Keith easily knocked him down in the second. They’re both sweaty and bouncing with adrenaline and it’s so easy to just move and not have to think.

“Getting slow in your old age.” Keith teases cheekily as he darts away from Shiro’s hold, his hands only barely touching his skin. 

This Keith is one of his favorites. People who don’t really know him think Keith is always serious or grump. But they’ve never seen him like this, cheeky and playful and smiling so widely.

Like so many others, this is a Keith that belongs solely to Shiro.

“You wish,” Shiro says grinning and moves again before Keith has time to fully back out of his reach. He grapples down but Keith uses the motion to push himself forward until Shiro has to back up or fall down. Shiro knows he’s lost the opportunity to pin him but he reaches out any way to tug playfully on the end of Keith’s braid.

Keith clicks his tongue at him and Shiro sticks his own out in response. After that, it’s still playful but they both start to take it more seriously—blow by blow is blocked over and over again. Where one moves the other is quick to follow. It’s the one downside of fighting someone you’ve known for so long and so closely. You know every move, can predict every beat before the other has even thought of it. Shiro can tell when Keith’s going to try for a pin by the furrow in his brow, at the same time Keith knows when Shiro will faint and go for a dive by the gleam in his eye and the shift of his feet.

Still, there’s always a winner eventually and today is Keith’s lucky day. He moves and Shiro thinks he’s going for another grapple but instead he swings up, using Shiro’s own mass as leverage and locks his thighs around Shiro’s head. Gravity pulls them down and he can only blink in surprise as quick hands grasp firmly onto his wrists so hard they tingle in response. Above him, Keith smirks victoriously. 

“Do you yield?” Shiro squirms and tests his hold, body bucking forward but it’s no use Keith’s grip is as unyielding and firm as metal. He pants out and Keith’s eyes narrow. Those clever hands tighten further—just on the right side of painful and Shiro moans quietly. 

“Yield for me, sweetheart.” Keith purrs out, strong and perfect above him. He couldn't look away from him even if he wanted to.

Shiro’s head slumps back to rest on the mat. His wrists stinging where Keith’s fingers make contact. “I yield.”

Keith kisses him as a reward and it punches the breath out of his lungs. A tongue steals into his mouth, hot and quick and Shiro can only submit to it and the waves of heat and want that follow in its wake.

He nips at his lip and Shiro reaches out to put his arms at him, to grasp onto those squirming hips or tug at his hair, when he realizes he’s still pinned, held perfectly in place by the strength of Keith’s arms.

“Baby?” He says, surprised at the raspiness of his voice and Keith reluctantly pulls away, staring at him with lidded eyes. He follows his gaze and looks considerately at his hands still holding onto Shiro.

“Can I try something?” Keith says and Shiro’s already nodding before he’s even finished speaking. He doesn’t know if it’s the adrenaline or what but his body already feels on fire, pleasant little sparks racing up and down his spine.

Needle sharp teeth scrape pleasantly over the tender skin of his neck. At the same time, the hands around his wrists squeeze.

Unable to help himself Shiro moans so loudly it echoes around the empty room. 

Keith lifts his head up and there’s a spark of something, satisfaction or smugness maybe, in his eyes.

“I have an idea.” He announces happily as Shiro tries to regain his senses.

Keith’s idea is this:

“I’m going to fuck you against the wall while holding onto your wrists,” Keith says later when they’re back in their room.

Shiro blinks, “What?” They’ve done the wall thing before and it had been incredibly hot both ways they’ve tried it but still, the idea is kind of unexpected.

He shrugs, some of his confidence wavering as he runs a hand through his hair. “I might be totally off track here but I think I figured it out. I think you like being tied up because it makes you feel safe, secure.”

Around him, the world feels vaguely fuzzy and Keith continues on. “I thought maybe if I’m the one holding you down, just me, that it could make you feel safe again.”

“Yeah,” Shiro says shakily as he pictures it in his mind, Keith holding him down with just his hands, fucking him, protecting him. “Yeah baby, let’s try it.”

They’re both eager for it as they strip hurriedly. Keith’s hands run teasingly over his body in quick little motions that set his nerves alight. They linger on his neck, they play with his nipples until they’re red and hard, and they stroke at his cock until Shiro’s a panting, shivery mess. 

Then a hand moves, wrapping securely around both of his wrists while the other keeps a tight fist around his cock. Keith laughs at him as his thumb trails teasingly over Shiro’s cockhead and all he can do is moan over and over again.

Keith’s grip tightens just the once— pinpricks of pressure and pleasure that make Shiro groan, his head smacking against the wall as he tries to lean into it, hips bucking up even more as he fucks into the circle of Keith’s hand.

He’s surprised at the strength of his own reaction but it’s hard to focus on it. Everything has started to feel soft and hazy now and Shiro can’t do much more than just _feel_. He’s reassured that even Keith doesn’t look unaffected—staring at him with dark eyes and biting at his own lip so much it looks red and plump. He looks wild as if ready to jump Shiro in an instant and it’s so fucking hot.

“Please.” He begs, unsure of what he’s even begging for—more pressure, faster, harder—but it’s okay because Keith seems to know. 

Shiro whines, actually whines, when the hand slips off his cock. He moves to follow it only to jerk back—the hold on his wrists is too tight and Shiro can only huff out in frustration.

Keith presses a kiss to his cheek. His body is a hot presence pressed so closely to Shiro’s own that they’re only barely not touching and it’s maddening at being too close but not close enough.

“I’m going to get you ready now,” Keith says, comforting and familiar next to his ear and Shiro starts nodding without realizing it, only noticing when Keith lets out a little giggle.

His free hand trails leisurely up Shiro’s body—nails scratching teasingly at the trail of thick hair leading to his cock, scrapping and pinching his nipples—before ending up at his jaw. Keith’s thumb makes soothing strokes over his skin and Shiro leans into the touch. “You remember what to do if you need to stop?”

Words are hard even this early on, his head feels like it’s full of cotton but he manages to soldier on, silently prompted by the kindness and patience radiating off his boyfriend. “I say yellow and we slow down. I say red and we stop.”

He’s given another kiss as a reward, closer to his lips this time.

“What a good boy I have,” Keith says fondly before his hand moves again. When they touch him again, soothing trailing fingers at the inside of his thigh, they’re slippery and warm.

Shiro shifts, spreading his legs and the fingers around his wrists tighten in response. Another reward.

Keith has big hands that Shiro’s always liked. Even before they were dating, the sight of them was comforting as if to say look here’s someone willing to hold you, to shelter you no matter what.

Now as they pump in and out of his hole and rub insistently at that spot inside him, Shiro loves them no less. They’re always able to find the perfect angle to make Shiro cry out and the burn of the stretch makes Shiro impatient for more.

Really Shiro just loves every part of Keith.

Keith adds another finger, up to three now, but all it really does is make him want Keith’s cock inside him more and he can’t help but jerk his hips, fucking hopelessly into the air for some kind of friction. His aching cock barely skims against Keith’s stomach before he’s pulled back.

“Sweetheart.” Keith tsks, looking disappointed and delighted at the same time, practically vibrating in place with eagerness. The hands around him are ironclad now and the fingers in his ass stretch even farther, pumping faster. “Good boys are supposed to stay where you put them. Don’t you want to be my good boy?”

“Yes.” Shiro sobs out. “Please Keith.” He wants so much and he wants everything but right now nothing matters but what Keith will give him.

His fingers brush over that spot inside him one last time before they’re gone and Shiro can only moan quietly, aching and empty.

A hand taps against his legs and Shiro’s so punchdrunk that it takes him a minute to realize what he’s supposed to do. 

His legs wrap around Keith, ankles locking at the small of his back and now Keith’s entire body is a line of warmth pressed against him. Keith’s face is pressed against the injunction of his neck and Shiro can feel what must be his smile pressed into his skin.

Keith’s cock drags in rough passes over his hole. Over and over again until Shiro can’t help but beg for more.

Then finally, thankfully, he’s inside and Shiro sobs again, this time from relief.

Keith fucks into him with the same kind of determined focus he uses for battle or piloting. His free hand digs little marks into his ass and they throb in sync with the tingling pain around Shiro’s wrists. Every hard thrust has Keith’s hips meeting Shiro’s ass and the slapping sound echoes in his ears as the rest of the world falls away to just them.

“Keith.” Shiro moans out and he wants to touch him but he can’t and it’s so good. He squirms against the hold but it doesn’t matter, Keith’s so strong nothing could break it. “Baby please.”

Keith mouths at the spot on his neck and just under his ear that makes him go wild but otherwise doesn’t respond. His teeth are sharp and electric and Shiro wants more.

“Keith.” He says again and Keith doesn’t slow, still fucking into him just as hard and fast but he pauses from worrying at Shiro’s neck. His skin is throbbing pleasantly and he knows there’s going to be more than one bruise there in the morning.

“More.” He says—begs and Keith laughs not unkindly at him.

“My greedy baby.” He says affectionate, but his voice sounds shaky from the effort and his fingers dig harder into Shiro’s skin. “What else can I give you?”

Shiro doesn’t know but he wants it. “Please.” The hand on his wrists, the unrelenting onslaught of Keith’s cock and still Shiro needs more.

Keith kisses him softly and then bites down hard on his lip. “I’ll always give you what you need, Shiro.” 

His thrusts turn harder, losing some of that precision but fucking deeper into Shiro. “Because you’re mine and I’ll always take care of what’s mine.” 

His hands tighten, impossibly, painfully hard on Shiro’s wrists and ass at the same time but what sends Shiro over the edge is the knowledge that he’s never been safer than at this moment. Shiro makes a sound that might be a scream.

His body tingles, nerves electric like a live wire as Keith slams into him one last time and they both groan at the feeling of warmth inside him. 

They’re both panting as Keith slides down to the floor, Shiro still firmly pressed into his lap. He whines in protest when his hand lets go of his wrists but sigh pleasantly when they start rubbing over his skin instead. Gentle touches to make sure he’s okay.

“You doing okay, sweetheart?” Shiro is floaty and fuzzy, a balloon drifting in the stratosphere thousands of miles away and he can only hum in response.

A hand tilts his chin up and Shiro blinks drowsily as Keith stares down at him with a smile on his face. “What’s your color baby?” He leans into the touch, chasing out Keith’s fingers, desperate for every point of contact he can get between them.

“So green,” Shiro says laughing and not really sure why outside of everything feeling so damn good.

Keith’s smile widens, “Good.” At last, when he seems satisfied by the state of Shiro’s wrist they leave to instead wrap comfortingly around his waist as Keith hauls them up, somewhat shaky himself.

“What about you?” Shiro says sleepily as Keith sets him down on the bed. He’s gone for only a moment before a wet cloth starts carefully cleaning his body. “Are you good?”

Keith pauses, hands resting on Shiro’s belly before they start back up. “If you’re good I could never be anything else.” 

Shiro swats at him half-heartedly, hand flopping to the bed and Keith laughs happily. When he’s done cleaning Shiro makes impatient grabby hands at him and he laughs again but climbs onto the bed.

Shiro pulls him to where he wants him—until their legs are tangled together and Keith’s head is curled up on Shiro’s chest, the perfect position for him to rest his own on top if he wanted to. 

“Thank you.” He says a while later when some of the giddiness has worn off and left a comfortable ache in its place. 

Keith kisses his chest in response. “I’d do anything for you if it meant making you happy.” His tone is hushed, quiet in the little bubble of peace they’ve made in their room. 

Shiro knows this and it would be scary if he knew he wouldn’t do the exact same for Keith. His hands start to play with Keith’s hair, softly scratching at his scalp. “You know it goes both ways.”

“Hmm?” Keith says into his chest, the start of sleep coating his voice. 

“If I’m yours then you’re mine and I’ll always take care of you too.” 

A quiet but steady purr starts to fill the room and Shiro falls asleep listening to the sound of Keith’s love for him.

When he wakes its hours later and there’s the smell of breakfast creeping into the room and the sound of Keith scolding Kosmo for stealing some bacon.

It’s after a night of no nightmares or lost dreams and Shiro smiles and goes to meet his boyfriend full of love and hope.


End file.
